


The Time is 7:30

by 9_of_Clubs



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Bittersweet, M/M, Nostalgia, Stolen Moments, Time is Fluid, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 01:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1880460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9_of_Clubs/pseuds/9_of_Clubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of vignettes about the past, present, and future of Will and Hannibal. They don't come in order but sort of flow from one point in time somewhere else. I'll order them in a second chapter for anyone who wants! </p>
<p>Warning - one contains character death, towards the end, but the rest are kosher. </p>
<p>The time is 7:30, he’s in Baltimore, Maryland, and Hannibal Lecter has just stabbed him in the gut with a knife. The world is going dark and somewhere very far a hand caresses his cheek with the touch of a lover...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Time is 7:30

The time is 7:30, he’s in Baltimore, Maryland, and Hannibal Lecter has just stabbed him in the gut with a knife. The world is going dark and somewhere very far a hand caresses his cheek with the touch of a lover.

The time is 7:30, he’s in Baltimore, Maryland, and he does not need therapy. The Minnesota Shrike is out there killing, and he would be better served spending his time on that. It’s 7:30 and somewhere a girl is dying. The stranger in a suit rubber stamps him, sane, and he leaves. He won’t be coming back, he tells himself.

The time is 7:30, and he can’t say where he is, in case someone finds this, you know, can’t ever be too careful, but he’s standing by the sea, a warm breeze ruffling his hair, the last sun rays kissing his skin. He’s not alone.

The time is 7:30, he’s lingering at the steps of the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He’s driven an hour to come stand here, as he does every week, and bit by bit the sky has taken to darkening around him. It’s a funny reminder that while he stands frozen, everywhere else time marches on. Chilton’s scarred face peeks at him through a window and turns away when their eyes meet. They understand each other, but they don’t ever speak.

The time is 7:30, it’s not really, because he’s dreaming, but laughter is lighting up his face and a little girl is crawling into his lap. “Daddy says I have to apologize.” She’s unrepentant as she leans up to whisper in his ear. “But I think he’s happy.”

The time is 7:30, he’s in Sugarloaf Key, Florida, in his new home. Molly kisses him on the cheek and he holds her. But it’s 7:30 and his mind is far away.

The time is 7:30, he’s in prison orange, and Hannibal is handing him new clothes to wear before he’ll take Will where he wants to go. To see her last breaths in a cursed house. He doesn’t ask where Hannibal got his clothes or why, but slips them on greatfully. The shadows are starting to coalesce around them, but he refuses to see _yet._

The time is 7:30, he’s in Baltimore, Maryland, and he’s mid-laughter when he realizes that for the first time in ages, he’s made a friend. When he catches Hannibal’s eye, there’s a sparkle there and he lets the grin grow on his face. This isn’t being sociable, this is much better.

The time is 7:30, he’s actually made it inside, his flight is in an hour, but he’s inside, everywhere and nowhere, and his eyes find Hannibal’s for the first time since the trial. I’ve missed you strangles his throat and cuts burning through his insides. “I’m leaving.” He says instead, pretends he misses the look of pain that twists the other’s features.

The time is 7:30, he’s in Italy, and the scent of cooking fills the air, the waft of a fresh bottle of wine. He’s a fugitive again, running from the law, but it’s thrilling this time, a brand new game afoot, he looks up as Hannibal’s lips find his, a teammate to play it with.  


The time is 7:30, he’s in Wolf Trap, Virginia, but the time doesn’t mean anything to him yet. He’s alone with his dogs and his books, life is as it always is for a one time investigator turned teacher. He’s breathing, but not living.

The time is 7:30, he’s in a jail cell, and Hannibal is here, right on time. He can’t see through the bitterness that’s coating his eyes at this very moment though, and doesn’t want to try. A million years, he says, and means it.

The time is 7:30, he’s in his apartment, scars, now old scars, twisting his face, and a young woman knocks on his door. She brings the name to the new space and it sits casually on the couch as though that’s where it belongs. He wants to hate her for it, but he can see she’s already fallen too far. He tries pitying her instead, but in the end he finds he’s only jealous.

The time is 7:30, they’re in the old Lecter Castle in Lithuania, no harm in admitting it now, Jack is long gone, and there are fresher, deadlier, murderers out there to be concerned with. The world has all but forgotten them, as the new fades out the old. And they are now, old that is, have lived a long, good, life together, but he can sense it’s coming to a close. That’s why they’ve come after all, so Hannibal could find death where he found life, and have dramatic symmetry to the very last. They sit beneath an old window, a book splayed on their laps, little handprints pressed into the title page, Mischa Lecter it says in a child’s writing, in Hannibal’s writing.

“I believe this shall have to be our last appointment.” Hannibal’s voice is amused, though sad, but not scared. “You will forgive me for ending your therapy early. But I think you are ready for the world.” Will laughs and cries and buries his head in Hannibal’s shoulders.

In death, he makes him beautiful, a crown of flowers twined in his hair, the book in his hands as though he were reading. He does not eat him, he refuses to do that, though briefly he considers taking the heart. On his way out, he calls the police, one last headline for infamy.

As he leaves, he thinks he can hear them, Abigail, and Mischa, and Hannibal, laughter echoing in the air. But then, he always was a little insane.

The time is 7:30, he’s in love, does it matter where he is? The spring rain falls across his cheeks like tears, but he’s smiling, and Hannibal is holding his hand. Together they walk down the empty streets.


	2. The Time is 7:30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order!

The time is 7:30, he’s in Wolf Trap, Virginia, but this doesn’t mean anything to him yet. He’s alone with his dogs and his books, life is as it always is for a one time investigator turned teacher. He’s breathing, but not living. 

The time is 7:30, he’s in Baltimore, Maryland, and he does not need therapy. The Minnesota Shrike is out there killing, and he would be better served spending his time on that. It’s 7:30 and somewhere a girl is dying. The stranger in a suit rubber stamps him, sane, and he leaves. He won’t be coming back, he tells himself. 

The time is 7:30, he’s in Baltimore, Maryland, and he’s mid-laughter when he realizes that for the first time in ages, he’s made a friend. When he catches Hannibal’s eye, there’s a sparkle there and he lets the grin grow on his face. This isn’t being sociable, this is much better. 

The time is 7:30, he’s in prison orange, and Hannibal is handing him new clothes to wear before he’ll take Will where he wants to go. To see her last breaths in a cursed house. He doesn’t ask where Hannibal got his clothes or why, but slips them on greatfully. The shadows are starting to coalesce around them, but he refuses to see yet.

The time is 7:30, he’s in a jail cell, and Hannibal is here, right on time. He can’t see through the bitterness that’s coating his eyes at this very moment though, and doesn’t want to try. A million years, he says, and means it. 

The time is 7:30, he’s in Baltimore, Maryland, and Hannibal Lecter has just stabbed him in the gut with a knife. The world is going dark and somewhere very far a hand caresses his cheek with the touch of a lover. 

The time is 7:30, he’s lingering at the steps of the Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane. He’s driven an hour to come stand here, as he does every week, and bit by bit the sky has taken to darkening around him. It’s a funny reminder that while he stands frozen, everywhere else time marches on. Chilton’s scarred face peeks at him through a window and turns away when their eyes meet. They understand each other, but they don’t ever speak. 

The time is 7:30, he’s actually made it inside, his flight is in an hour, but he’s inside, everywhere and nowhere, and his eyes find Hannibal’s for the first time since the trial. I’ve missed you strangles his throat and cuts burning through his insides. “I’m leaving.” He says instead, pretends he misses the look of pain that twists the other’s features. 

The time is 7:30, he’s in Sugarloaf Key, Florida, in his new home. Molly kisses him on the cheek and he holds her. But it’s 7:30 and his mind is far away.

The time is 7:30, he’s in his apartment, scars, now old scars, twisting his face, and a young woman knocks on his door. She brings the name to the new space and it sits casually on the couch as though that’s where it belongs. He wants to hate her for it, but he can see she’s already fallen too far. He tries pitying her instead, but in the end he finds he’s only jealous. 

The time is 7:30, it’s not really, because he’s dreaming, but laughter is lighting up his face and a little girl is crawling into his lap. “Daddy says I have to apologize.” She’s unrepentant as she leans up to whisper in his ear. “But I think he’s happy.” 

The time is 7:30, he’s in Italy, and the scent of cooking fills the air, the waft of a fresh bottle of wine. He’s a fugitive again, running from the law, but it’s thrilling this time, a brand new game afoot, he looks up as Hannibal’s lips find his, a teammate to play it with.

The time is 7:30, and he can’t say where he is, in case someone finds this, you know, can’t ever be too careful, but he’s standing by the sea, a warm breeze ruffling his hair, the last sun rays kissing his skin. He’s not alone. 

The time is 7:30, they’re in the old Lecter Castle in Lithuania, no harm in admitting it now, Jack is long gone, and there are fresher, deadlier, murderers out there to be concerned with. The world has all but forgotten them, as the new fades out the old. And they are now, old that is, have lived a long, good, life together, but he can sense it’s coming to a close. That’s why they’ve come after all, so Hannibal could find death where he found life, and have dramatic symmetry to the very last. They sit beneath an old window, a book splayed on their laps, little handprints pressed into the title page, Mischa Lecter it says in a child’s writing, in Hannibal’s writing. 

“I believe this shall have to be our last appointment.” Hannibal’s voice is amused, though sad, but not scared. “You will forgive me for ending your therapy early. But I think you are ready for the world.” 

Will laughs and cries and buries his head in Hannibal’s shoulders. 

In death, he makes him beautiful, a crown of flowers twined in his hair, the book in his hands as though he were reading. He does not eat him, he refuses to do that, though briefly he considers taking the heart. On his way out, he calls the police, one last headline for infamy.

As he leaves, he thinks he can hear them, Abigail, and Mischa, and Hannibal, laughter echoing in the air. But then, he always was a little insane.

The time is 7:30, he’s in love, does it matter where he is? The spring rain falls across his cheeks like tears, but he’s smiling, and Hannibal is holding his hand. Together they walk down the empty streets.


End file.
